Bad Enough for You (Currently Editing)

I'm Not Touching Your Boobs

41.] I'm Not Touching Your Boobs

Along with the skeletons, some people have a tendency of stuffing mistakes in their closets. What they don’t realize, though, when they’ve kicked in it and latched the door behind them, that mistakes don’t always just go away. A lot of the time, they transform with the layer of dust that covers the, shifting into time bombs that red numbers tick down on, just waiting to take them by surprise and explode. With the explosion comes not only the debris of all of the skeletons and other mistakes they’ve kicked and forgotten, but all of the secrets they tried to hide.

Once the shells cracked and the truth was revealed, there was no bother in trying to hide the damage. I didn’t know it yet, but the only way to move on from an explosion of the likes was to brush yourself, hold your head high, and keep your composure until you were locked away in an empty room with a bottle of Jack.

I had stuffed my own time bomb into the closet quite some time ago. In the recent events of my life, the moment had completely slipped my mind. Here I was, about to embark on something that was meant to help two people that I loved dearly without any defense or protection. All of my bombs were behind me, just seconds left before they exploded.

And I didn’t even know it.

Not thinking about the dusty skeletons hanging in my closet or the mistakes that had turned into time bombs, I led Milo through. Under the cover of darkness, we crept down the sidewalk, keeping an eye out for people who potentially might recognize us. We weren’t concerned with for the paparazzi, but more of the people like my sister or Eli who wouldn’t understand if they saw us together.

We were headed towards downtown Jessamine to where the lead singer of Ci’s favorite band, Vegas Skies, were having a party to celebrate their last night in town. Though the paparazzi wouldn’t be concerned with B-List celebrities, if they found out that Milo was going, they would most certainly be all over that.

“Where are we?” Milo asked for what felt like the umpteenth time. I stopped in my creeping and turned to look at him, planting both of my hands on my hips and looking at him with an exasperated expression. I felt him looking back at me, eyes falling from my face to my sparkling black dress, so tight that I could hardly breathe and so short that there was no way I was bending over unless I was completely wasted. “And why are you dressed like that?”

“Okay, Milo,” I tried to keep from snapping at him because I knew that this was probably unnerving for him. I knew that Milo wasn’t shy to the alcohol before he started Spill the Beans, but with a real job and a steady girlfriend and an actual bright future, Milo had let go of that rebellious side. What I was here to do was restore it, make the world think that Milo Dunkin wasn’t as sweet as they thought he was and that all it took was one drink to make him spin wildly out of control. “You don’t have to get drunk. As long as you make it seem like you are, let people see your face and help get the word out there that Milo was at a party with another girl, we won’t have any problems.”

“This doesn’t seem like it’s going to work, Adrienne.” He all but whimpered, looking me dead in the eye. “What if this doesn’t work?”

“It’s not going to work if you don’t have a little faith! Seriously, Milo.” I stomped my foot. “Don’t make me grab you by the collar and drag you there. I’m probably going to be wasted, so take my keys. I have the address to the apartments tucked in my bra in case we get lost, okay?”

“I’m not touching your boobs.” Milo said.

“Well, you’re going to have to find someone to dig it out then.” I shrugged and then walked around him, my ice-pick stilettos clicking against the ground. The rest of the walk would have been spent in silence if it wasn’t for Milo’s constant muttering and my irritated responses.